


Depression

by AgeOfAlejandro



Series: Only Moreso [3]
Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Developing Relationship, M/M, Major Depressive Episode, Mental Health Issues, References to Suicide, Self Loathing, Suicide Attempt, more emotional nastiness than you can shake a stick at
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-13
Updated: 2012-06-11
Packaged: 2017-11-03 13:28:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgeOfAlejandro/pseuds/AgeOfAlejandro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'll find out how how weak he really is someday and he can't bear the thought. He doesn't want to disappoint everyone who has, so foolishly, placed their faith in him.</p><p>And he's so very tired of pretending to be strong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Depression_ is slightly different in that I can't tell all of the story from Tony's perspective, not if I want to get the whole thing across (because people who visit the bottom of the well regularly don't always realize exactly how bad/weird it is from the outside because they get wrapped up in their own heads in ways that are hard to explain unless you've been there). There will be glimpses from Steve's eyes, possibly among others. Also please please _please_ heed the warnings! There's self-loathing here to the nth degree, a suicide attempt (later), and a bunch of other nasty emotional things.  
>  Also, you may want to read the previous two parts to this. You can probably get by all right without them, but there are and will be lots of references to shit that happened before. So yeah.

Sometimes Tony thinks about college. In between remembering every stupid thing he did or said and cringing, Tony thinks about James Fellman, who was in some ways a closer friend than Rhodey.  
  
James was the epitome of a tortured genius. He was high-strung, all crazy hair and neuroses and numbers, and when he wasn't staring vacant-eyed at walls or the floor, Tony quite liked him. He was one of the few people who could keep up with Tony and who never treated him like an obnoxious kid brother (like even Rhodey did sometimes). James and Tony used to meet up and be math nerds together, bouncing theories and ideas between them and he was also often happy to talk engineering, too, though his understanding tended to be more theoretical in nature. They would pick through problems they were having with their respective projects a lot of the time, and the results were impressive.  
  
Conversation often strayed to non-academic topics and Tony learned quick which ones made James go wild-eyed. These included anything remotely related psychology (to the point that Tony refrained from mentioning his psychology-major girlfriend junior year), friends who weren't Tony (Tony had always gotten the idea that he didn't _have_ any other friends), and his family. Tony had once idly asked him what his parents did for a living, only to see James's jaw clamp shut and for him to look like he wanted to bolt. Tony never mentioned it again.

Tony was the arrogant little rich boy and James was the weirdo reject from the math department who hung out with a kid, and they were often seen huddled together, passing papers back and forth while James hissed (as was his wont when he got excited) -- so of course they developed a reputation. Sometimes it got to Tony (who was, after all, a teenager trying to prove himself to adults), but he was doggedly loyal to his friend because James was one of the kindest people Tony knew, and his problems weren't his fault.

 

Their senior year was particularly stressful for James, as it coincided with something else Tony was never able to discover, and the week before spring finals James had a breakdown in the very public math building's lobby. He had to be institutionalized for a while, and the only way Tony found out was because someone asked him, jeeringly, if he had heard what had happened to his friend. He hadn't and the guy had grinned maliciously as he told Tony about the way James had very quietly curled up in a corner and cried like a child until he was taken away.  
  
Tony tried to visit him at the hospital, but James had refused to see him and Tony never saw his friend again. Through the MIT alumni gossip mill, he heard a few years later that James hung himself. He didn't leave a note.  
  
  
The other thing that thinking about James reminds him off is the way that Rhodey acted around James -- he'd never said anything outright, but his tone stank of patronization and he seemed to think James could barely wipe his own ass. It's one of the many reasons Tony's always kept his problems to himself, redirecting conversations and deflecting by making as things awkward as possible for Rhodey until he drops it on the occasion it came up.  
It's not a nice thing to do to Rhodey, but Tony can't bring himself to mind much. What Rhodey would say and do if he found out is not very nice, either.

 

 

*

  
  
Steve frowns. Something has been up with Tony lately and to find him laid out flat on the cot in his lab like this is just more proof.  
  
"Tony?" he calls, stopping a few feet away from the cot, "Hey, Tony." Nothing. Tony doesn't even seem to hear him. "Tony, I brought coffee," he tries again, fruitlessly. "JARVIS," Steve says with a frown. "How long has he been like this?"  
  
"Two hours," JARVIS says, concern evident in the AI's voice. "He has not moved or spoken since lying down."  
  
Ordinarily, it's hard to get Tony to sit down for more than twenty minutes or to shut up for five. "Is there something going on he hasn't been telling me -- us-- about?" Steve didn't think so, but Tony is cagey at the best of times.  
  
"Not really," JARVIS says. "He gets like this sometimes. Miss Potts and I have found that touch is the best way to get his attention, by the way."  
  
Approaching Tony's cot, Steve studies his friend for a moment. Tony looks miserable and unhappy at a level Steve isn't sure he can relate to (Steve's had boughts of the blues on and off since his mother died but the only time it was maybe this deep was after he woke -- Steve stops the thought in its tracks) and he's worried. Steve sits gingerly on the edge of the cot and leans over to gently runs a hand through Tony's hair. "Hey," he says softly as Tony jerks into awareness. "Are you all right?"  
  
Tony blinks up at him, badly hiding his panic before flashing Steve what would usually be a charming smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just," he laughs as he stops the progress of Steve's hand through his hair, "tired."  
  
That's a blatant lie but Steve lets it slide. "Tony Stark admitting he's tired? Never thought I'd see the day," he says lightly.  
  
"Ssshhh." Tony gives him a grin and shifts their hands to twine their fingers together. "I'll deny it if you mention it to anyone else." Steve's heart warms when Tony squeezes his hand affectionately as he sits. "So what's up?"  
  
"Wanted to see if you'd eaten recently. If you haven't, we should go out for dinner," Steve says.  
  
"I'm good," Tony says and Steve chooses not to ask JARVIS when the last time Tony ate was. "If you're hungry, I can either whip something up or bully Bruce into cooking."  
  
"Is this your way of telling me you want to stay home?" Steve asks, cocking an eyebrow.  
  
"Yeah," Tony says, seeming to admit it as exhaustion creeps into his voice briefly. "I mean, if that's ok? We can still go out if you want."  
  
The earnest way he's looking at Steve says he will if that's what Steve wants, even though he doesn't want to. Steve's not sure if he knows this because he's gotten better at reading Tony or if it's because Tony is having trouble hiding his feelings. Steve keeps that thought to himself. "No, that's ok," he says. "We can stay in."  
  
"Good, thanks," Tony says with a smile.  
  
Steve suspects Tony doesn't realize how relieved that smile looks. "I hear good things about your spaghetti."  
  
  
  
Tony does in fact make amazing spaghetti and Steve digs in with gusto after persuading him to eat a little, too. After dinner (Tony picked at his plate the entire time and maybe ate three bites before throwing the rest of it away -- he's haphazard in his eating patterns at the best of times but he usually eats more than this), they retreat to the closest living room and watch TV for a while, and Tony eventually ends up asleep with his head on Steve's lap. Steve strokes his hair idly and worries.  
  


 

*

  
  
Tony turns the water scalding hot and slides down the wall in his shower, curled in the corner to rest his head against his crossed arms. A dull pain reminiscent of heartsick, but not so sharp or raw, has taken up residence in his chest and it _aches_ in a way he doesn't have the words to describe. He's so weak. He curls in tighter, hugs his knees closer, and presses his face in the space between them and his chest. He ignores the way the rim of the reactor digs into his chin. God, he hates himself. Tony chuckles bitterly at his own weakness and the way so many people expect him to be strong. He isn't. The ache turns sharp and jabs him in tender places. They'll find out how how weak he really is someday and he can't bear the thought. He doesn't want to disappoint everyone who has, so foolishly, placed their faith in him.  
  
And he's so very tired of pretending to be strong. Tony pulls his head out of the little cave he's made with his body and turns to drop his head against his knees. He doesn't know how long he can keep it up before he stumbles and everyone sees through the act to the weak, ugly little person he is on the inside. Every sin, every petty evil, every little horror that Tony commits on a daily basis to get by, each and every lie he's ever told, all in broad daylight for public viewing.  
Everyone he knows will hate him. Tony _needs_ other people to function. He needs the rock that is Pepper and the steady hands of Steve, and when they hate him he won't have those necessities anymore. His heart clenches painfully and he wonders, what will he do then? Tony foresees a future where he is alone, where he is unmoored, where his only guide is a bottle and his only goal is to find the bottom as fast as he can.  
  
He wishes he weren't so weak.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School's winding down so it might be a while between now and the next chapter. Also, I'm taking applications for a beta.

Steve puts down his cup of coffee. "Tony's down in his workshop," he says, looking unhappy for reasons Pepper is uncertain of. She's been out of town for two months or so, busy being CEO in LA while Tony managed R&D and did his Iron Man thing here in Manhattan, but they chat each week. And she's pretty certain Tony would have talked her ear off about it if he and Steve were fighting, so that can't be it. Still.  
"Is everything ok between you two?" she asks, gesturing between Steve and the general direction of the workshop, "No fights or...?"  
  
"No fighting," Steve confirms with a brief smile. "But I'm worried. He seems really...off, I guess, lately."  
  
It's never good when Tony's off. It tends to mean there's an impending disaster. "Off how?"  
  
Steve shrugs helplessly. "He admitted he was tired the other day--"  
  
"You sure that wasn't him trying to talk you into bed?" she teases with a smile.  
  
Oh, Tony's right. Steve's even cuter when he blushes. "No," he says bashfully, not quite able to look at her. "He wanted to stay home, made us dinner, and then fell asleep while we were watching TV."  
  
Pepper can remember times when Tony wanted to stay home, during the short period they dated. They're some of her best memories of their time together, actually, because Tony's surprisingly sweet when he's not wearing his public face. He's still sarcastic and vulgar and lively, but there's none of the iron-spined brashness that holds his image in place. But she can definitely see Steve's concern. "He's been pushing himself lately?" Pepper says. Tony's never learned how to stop, so it's quite likely he has been.  
  
"Yes," Steve concedes. "But it's not that kind of tired, if you know what I mean."  
  
Light begins to dawn on Pepper and she thinks she might. "Possibly. I suppose I'll see when I get down there, right?"  
  
Steve rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah you will. Pepper" he adds as she turns away, "he's actually sleeping lately. Something tells me that bodes ill."  
  
Pepper's mouth twists wryly. "Yeah it does." Only with Tony is _sleeping_ a sign of impending doom.  
  
  
  
Tony is sprawled out on a rolling chair and the nearby surfaces, the air above him is filled with glowing hologram schematics. This is utterly ordinary. What _isn't_ ordinary is the lack of energy in his frame and the tense line of his shoulders. What isn't ordinary is the dull look he gives her when he sees her and the tired "Hi, Pep."  
  
"Hi, Tony," she greets. Pepper watches Tony don his Someone Important Needs My Attention mask and lets him wear it without a word. Oh yes, she knows what kind of tired Steve means. It's the kind of tired that leaves Tony raw-eyed and lethargic, has him staring at the same blue prints and tweaking and untweaking and retweaking the same thing until he's tight with frustration. "How are you?" she asks, cocking her hip against the desk Tony is currently using as a foot rest.  
  
He shrugs and looks at his socks. "Ok, I suppose." Tony glances up at her again. "You?"  
  
That question doesn't ordinarily take the kind of effort it's costing Tony (if she can see effort at all, it's costing him a lot) and she frowns a little. "I'm good. Happy says hi, by the way," she adds, resting a hand on his ankle.  
  
Tony gives her a flicker of a smile and sits up the best he can without moving his feet. "I'd demand that he move out here, but you need him don't you?"  
  
"I do, or I'd let you have him; who else knows the back way to everywhere in LA but Happy?" Pepper asks, deciding a change in subject would be good. "How are you and Steve?"  
  
A pained and painfully happy look flits across his face before he smiles. "We're good. Too good. He's" Tony makes an upward gesture, "in the house somewhere. He's probably better company than I am." The smile he gives her is a little brittle at the edges; Pepper only notices because she knows what to look for. "Is there anything you need me for? Signing important papers I'll avoid for a week?"  
  
"No, there isn't," Pepper says with a lopsided smile in return, stroking the bony knob inside his ankle with her thumb. She suspects Tony's waiting for the other shoe to drop in his relationship with Steve. "Why don't you come upstairs and help me find Steve?"  
  
"I've got," he points at the holograms above them, "this to do, or I would."  
  
"All right," she agrees and stands up straight. "But come join us in half an hour, ok?"  
  
Tony gives her that smile again and nods. "See you in half an hour, then."  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
"So that's the kind of 'off' you mean," Pepper says without preamble as she settles on the couch next to Steve's chair.  
  
Steve sighs and puts down his book on the armrest. "JARVIS said this happens sometimes -- how often?"  
  
She shrugs. "A couple times a year, though this is the worst I've seen in a while. But it's summer," Pepper says, glancing out at the sun-filled yard stretching out into the grounds, "and his spells are always worse in summer for some reason."  
  
"What can I do to help him, Pepper?" Steve asks, all earnest eyes and concern.  
  
She warms at knowing Tony has more than just her now. "I almost wish I had a 'Care and Keeping of Tony Stark' manual made up but---"  
  
"--He'd find it and then decide to upset the whole thing?" Steve asks with amusement.  
  
"Yes, yes he would," Pepper agrees with a smile before she turns serious. "The best thing you can do for him is be there, no matter what, and there will be a lot of 'whats' that will make you want to leave," she says with a sigh. "Tony generally gives into his need to be with other people by sort of appearing in the same room with you and doing something quiet. Let him talk first. And I find touch -- any touch, even just brushing shoulders -- is helpful. Don't let Tony lock himself up in his workshop all day, either. Get him to promise you he'll surface and join the rest of humanity for a while, and make him if he doesn't come up on his own."  
  
"He almost _never_ comes up on his own, Pepper," Steve replies.  
  
"When he's feeling good, that's true," she agrees. "But when he's like this? He seems to feel he has to be invited to join other humans. If he fights you -- and he probably won't -- just go sit in the workshop with him."  
  
"I do that sometimes anyway," Steve says, giving her a considering nod. "Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome," Pepper says. "Oh, and when he comes up, he probably won't stay for long but I find it's best to let him retreat."  
  
"At least he came up for a while, right?"  
  
"Right. He should emerge from the depths in about half an hour or so," Pepper says.  
  
Steve gives her a nod, a smile, and then they talk art until Tony slouches into the room right around the time he promised. He stands in the door way for a minute, looks between Steve's arm chair and Pepper's couch before sitting close to her. Tony doesn't interrupt like he would if he were feeling well, letting them continue to talk about Pollock and the control necessary for his kind of painting. The conversation shifts from Pollock to Rauschenberg (they conclude he's terrible) to Bijijoo (a man who paints pictures of presidents with hams -- Steve finds them very strange and Pepper finds them kind of delightful). He just occupies the space with them and listens to them talk about Bijijoo some more and then about art installations Steve would like to see. He's not quite still -- his foot jounces occasionally on the floor -- but he's much less twitchy. It's weird. Pepper has known Tony and his wild mood swings for years and she's never gotten used to the silence and stillness of his bad spells, and she can tell it's getting to Steve, who looks twitchy himself.  
  
"Well," Pepper says and stands up, "Think I better run." She figures she ought to let Steve start taking care of Tony, and for that she needs to leave. "We should all go to an exhibit before I leave for LA again, though." Getting out seems to do Tony a little bit of good.  
  
"Yeah," Steve agrees, his gaze flickering between Pepper (because it's polite) and Tony (because Steve is a worried mother hen). "That sounds good. Just, let me know, yeah?"  
  
"I will," Pepper agrees. "I'll have my PA send Tony's PA the details for one, soon. Is that ok, Tony?"  
  
"Sure," Tony agrees. He doesn't sound particularly enthusiastic, but he never does about exhibits.  
  
  
  
  
Steve sees Pepper out the door and Tony considers fleeing back to his shop. Steve is going to want to _talk_ and that's the last thing Tony wants right now. He wants to hide someplace quiet so he can avoid exposing his weaknesses. But he also misses Steve (he's so weak, needing someone like this) and they haven't spent much time together lately. Tony's uncertainty about his ability to head off the inevitable questions wars with his desire for Steve until Steve returns and plops down where Pepper had been sitting, looping an arm around Tony and asking, "Wanna watch TV or a movie?"  
  
Tony allows himself to scoot close (weak, so weak, needing Steve like this) and nods.  
  
"Any preference?"  
  
"No," Tony says and rests his head against Steve's shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

After a nasty fight with Doom, Tony is peeling off his armor at the bottom of his workshop, wincing at the damage as he takes off each piece. He must be taking too long to get back for debriefing because Steve shows up when Tony is prying back one of the damaged plates on his hip to get at a release buried beneath it.  
Steve eyes are big and soft with concern as he approaches. "Let me give you a hand, Tony."  
  
"No, no," Tony says. "I've got it." The screwdriver he's levering under a bend in the metal skitters out when he applies too much force and he sighs tiredly. He's so weak. Tony pauses when Steve holds out his hand for the screwdriver, unwilling to impose on him but when Steve holds his hand out more insistently, he hands it over, resting his hands lightly on Steve's shoulders for balance.  
  
Steve edges the flat head of the screwdriver under the exposed face of the plate, slides an arm around Tony to brace him, and twists it slowly with an unwavering strength Tony would probably need the suit to match. It pops free and Steve gives him back the tool with a smile. He runs a hand through Tony's sweaty hair affectionately and Tony gives into his sudden urge to touch Steve, looping his arms around Steve's shoulders and pulling him close. Steve immediately and wordlessly accepts the gesture and curls his arms around Tony's body in return.  
Which is strange, Tony thinks, tucking his face against Steve's t-shirted shoulder. The few times he's done it to Pepper, she murmured soothing, pitying nonsense into his hair, and the one time he had hugged Rhodey like this (because in these moments, Tony needs to know someone cares and he has trouble stopping himself even though the touches reek of weakness and desperation), Rhodey had awkwardly tolerated it and then ran off the moment Tony had let go.  
Steve, though, Steve doesn't speak or even sigh. He just lets Tony hold him for a long moment and doesn't say anything, either, when Tony pulls away just as suddenly as he had hugged him.  
  
Steve leans against the table nearby and Tony catches the expression on Steve's face out of the corner of his eye. It's warm, unfamiliar expression and it takes Tony a little while to place it as he continues taking off his armor. He stops as he realizes what it means and turns his attention to Steve, who is still looking the same way, and Tony doesn't really know what to do. Steve's expression shifts to a mixture of curiosity and concern, so he smiles instead of saying anything (it's probably his realest smile in what feels like months). Steve smiles back and it feels like all the air has been kicked out of his lungs and it hurts and he's happy and he's drowning in too many emotions at once.  
  
  
  
  
From that day on, Tony sees Steve's feelings in every touch and gesture, every look and word, and he drinks it in greedily. Tony loves him with everything he's got, too, and he loves that Steve loves him, even though he knows he's pretty much tricked Steve into it. Tony doesn't know how he tricked Steve but there's no other way to explain it -- people don't love him like Steve does of their own volition.  
  
Pushing Steve away is what he should do because loving Steve and letting Steve love him are eminently selfish acts but Tony is nothing if not selfish. Steve will find out, like everyone else, what a weak, ugly person Tony is inside and he will leave, like anyone else would. And that he loved someone as weak and pathetic as Tony will hurt Steve, because he deserves someone as strong and good as he is.  
Tony is weak. Tony is an animal. Tony is the saddest little monster of them all. No one, least of all Steve, should never be tricked into loving someone like him.  
  
He lets Steve love him anyway and takes whatever he's willing to give (Tony is pathetic and so terribly weak that he can't even bring himself to protect Steve because he needs to know someone cares about him to even pretend to function). And Tony loves him so much. He tries to give what he can back without contaminating Steve with his poison and his rot. Steve must notice that he always takes a moment to examine what he's saying and that he doesn't give quite as freely of himself as Steve does. Tony wants to, but he won't contaminate Steve. He won't.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Tony wishes he were small. He just wants to curl in on himself somewhere and not be seen by anyone, and being smaller would make hiding so much easier.  
  
As it is, he has to make do with silence and either staying in his lab or in rooms in the old, echoy parts of the mansion, where no one but cleaning staff has been in years. The rooms smell faintly of lemon oil and stale air, and it's too far out of the way for JARVIS here. Tony comes to them when he's too weary and too raw to deal with the possibility of other people. No one will think to look here; they'll probably assume he skipped off to Malibu before they think to look for him in the house.  
  
He's using these rooms as a refuge more and more these days and Tony can't make himself care about the fact that isolating himself like this a bad idea. His phone rings and he ignores it, tucking his arm under his head and shifting on the couch he's semi-cleared off. He wonders briefly if he's remembered to turn off the GPS chip before deciding it doesn't matter. No one is going to come look for him anyway.  
  
About an hour later, there's a knock and a tentative, "Tony?"  
  
At the sight of a worried Steve poking his head into the room, Tony's chest begins to ache and the weight of the reactor hanging in his sternum hasn't been so obvious in a long time, but he gives Steve what is probably a wane smile. "Hi Steve," he says as the other man quietly closes the door behind him, crossing the short distance to Tony's couch. He really wishes Steve would look worried less. Tony doesn't think he's worth the feeling.  
  
"Have you been out here all day?" Steve asks, perching by Tony's hip.  
  
Tony's instinct is to reach out and touch Steve but he can't bring himself to, feels like it would be too heavy. "No," he lies. Tony's been here almost since he woke up but Steve doesn't need to know that. "Only a little while." He tilts his head and smiles crookedly. "Just needed to get away from the noise."  
  
Steve doesn't look like he's buying it and Tony feels horrible for dragging Steve into his downward spiral. Tony's certain he's going to hit bottom this time; it's inevitable at this point.  
He's so weak.  
  
Steve looks like he's going to say something, something Tony probably doesn't want to hear. He pauses for a moment, then says, "Let's go out tonight. I think we're both probably going a little stir crazy."  
  
Tony gnaws on the inside of his lip for a moment. He knows he's an incredible imposition and Steve gives so much for precious little in return. "All right. What should we do?"  
  
"Whatever you want, Tony," Steve says, resting a hand on Tony's hip and smiling at him.  
  
Tony smiles back. Quite frankly, he'd prefer to hide by himself instead of going out and he has no idea what to say. "Dinner?" he offers eventually. "You pick the place."  
  
"Ok," Steve agrees. "Uh, there's a place I'd like to try in Queens."  
  
"All right," Tony says. "When?"  
  
"Half past seven?"  
  
"Sure." Tony nods. He has some time between now and then to work himself up into going. He's going to need every minute of it.  
  
  
  
Steve suggests that he drives because he knows where the place is and looks at him expectantly. Ordinarily Tony would turn this into flirting banter but today he can only be grateful for the offer. He can't dredge up the energy to navigate the warren that is the backstreets of Queens and he gestures for Steve to take his pick from the garage.  
Steve chooses one of Tony's less flashy cars, a black Benz, and he shoots Tony concerned looks the whole way there. Tony gives him the best smiles he can in return. What else is he supposed to do?  
  
The place Steve has picked is a little Greek hole in the wall and the food is pretty good. The dolmas are tangy and the falafal sandwich he gets is flavorful and Tony wishes he could properly enjoy it. He wishes for a lot of things, though. He's so weak, he thinks as Steve talks about an art installation he wants to see. Tony alternately hopes it's sometime soon because he wants it over with and that it's far into the future so he can muster up the energy to be a good date.  
  
  
  
Goddamn, Tony hates the paparazzi. All they did was have dinner in the ass-end of Queens and there's a dozen or so of the vultures lurking outside. Tony can feel a PR disaster coming on.  
  
"Captain Rogers, what do you have to say to the people who are claiming you're in a relationship with Tony Stark?"  
"Tony, what do you have to say about--!"  
"Mr. Rogers!"  
"Captain Amer--"  
"Mr. Stark! What about--?"  
"Have you heard the rumors that say--"  
  
Tony clamps his jaw shut and glares while Steve repeats "no comment" until Tony wants to scream  
  
"How about you, Mr Stark?" one asks Tony, the accompanying photographer shoving a camera in his face. "You, the biggest party boy and player in the last twenty years, have been so reclusive lately! It is because Cap has you on a tight leash?"  
  
Tony glares at him. "No, you fucking moron, it's because I'm busy _saving your collective asses,_ " he snaps, shoving the camera lens. "Get that the fuck out of my face!"  
  
The rag columnist grins like Tony handed him the grand prize and Tony could not care less it. "Oh come on, Tony! You always found time before!"  
  
Tony snarls and Steve puts a hand on Tony's shoulder blade, leaning in to say, "Come on, let's go home."  
  
"I'll take that as a 'yes,' Tony," the reporter calls as Tony allows Steve to usher him away from reporters.  
  
Steve wordlessly slides into the driver's seat again and Tony hurts all over as Steve starts up the car.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta, Linnea is super!
> 
> ALSO: This is a very heavy chapter. This and the next section are the bottom of Tony's deep dark well and it is _writhing_ with monsters. If suicidal thoughts do terrible, terrible things to you, you should probably come back for chapter six and the final part of the series, _Stability_.

Iron Man isn't enough to make up for Tony Stark. It isn't. Tony Stark is petty, vicious, juvenile, incompetent in all the ways that matter, responsible for the deaths of more people than he can count, and _weak_. That Iron Man saves lives doesn't make up for his sins. That he used Iron Man to blow up all the weapons he knew about in Afghanistan means nothing in the grand scheme of things, especially since he went there for Yinsen's sake. Iron Man is penance, not a true expression of goodness. Tony's not going to stop being Iron Man (this is entirely selfish: being an Avenger is one of the bright parts of his life besides Steve and upsetting his investors), but it’s an ultimately meaningless gesture.  
  
Tony wonders if there's a god out there who has written down the name of every person his weapons have killed, if they have a list of every person maimed by something with his name on it. Tony hopes not. Those lists would be easily hundreds of thousands of names long. And he's responsible for each and every entry. Each is a black mark he'll never be able to scrub away, not even if he takes steel wool to his flesh until he bleeds himself dry. Every entry represents dozens of lives destroyed. Mothers burying their children, children burying their _entire_ families. How many people have suffered at his hand? Aside from the three months in Afghanistan, Tony's never known true hardship. And even then, he got off light because he was useful. No one took an electric drill to him or otherwise got inventive. Just waterboarding. Tony pushes back memories of _I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die I don't want to die_ and cold, stinking water.  
  
There were no excuses for continuing the weapons development when the company was his. He could have -- should have -- changed gears after he took the helm. Back before he'd had the truth of what his weapons did shoved in his face and into his chest (Tony thinks he shouldn't have _needed_ that because he's always known, at least abstractly, what the practical reality of what SI weapons do is, but he knows he wouldn't have turned around if it hadn't happened; it’s yet another sign that Tony's irredeemable).  
Everyone's known for decades that there's only so much oil. Why didn't he pursue green energy from the start? (Tony knows why; weapons was what he inherited from Dad and he was too comfortable to fight to change it. Military money is _easy_ money, after all, and he's always been too selfish to want to change things until it's fucked up beyond all redemption).  
  
Sometimes Tony will see Steve and he'll have to fight the urge to curl up against the reassuring bulk of him and spill everything. He wants to tell someone so badly but he can't because he _needs_ people and he doesn't want to hurt Steve unnecessarily (which is what will happen if he does give in to that urge. Steve will hate that Tony used him by taking comfort in his touch while Tony told him he was a monster. It will be better if he finds out how bestial Tony is when Tony's not touching him).  
  
Steve -- and everyone else he knows -- would be better off if he weren't around. He can give Iron Man to someone who can legitimately use it for good and disappear in the cleanest, most permanent way possible.  
  
Tony starts planning and he does everything he can to prevent anyone from figuring out what he's going to do. There are no notes for himself, no mention of 'I am going to kill myself' to anyone, nothing he thinks could be taken as weird or as wrapping up his affairs, because they'll try to stop him or it'll lead to them finding out what he is. Tony doesn't even drink more than usual despite the fact that he desperately wants to.  
The details of how this is going to work are difficult: he doesn't want anyone he loves to come across him when he's dead (because they don't know yet, it's going to be hard enough for them when he dies without them walking in on his corpse), he wants it to be quick and clean enough to leave either a funeral-presentable body or none at all, and ideally, he wants it to be in a way that won't make people think it's a suicide (the media vultures would _love_ it if he obviously committed suicide -- poor little rich boy kills self, see A10 for details! -- and he doesn't want everyone else to have to deal with that).  
  
Right. That's easy enough to come up with, he thinks sarcastically as he updates his will (which is fortunately, something he's taken to periodically doing since becoming Iron Man, so it raises no alarms). But where there’s a will, he supposes, there’s a way.  
  
  
  
Clint Barton hasn't known Tony for very long -- only since the beginning of the Avengers -- but one of the things he knows about Tony is that the man is all sound and motion. Even when he's sitting still and concentrated on schematics, he's still a million little noises and movements: a chuff of air, a little grumble of irritation, a grin or a scowl. It's how he makes himself the larger than life figure the world knows.  
  
But of late? Tony has been quiet as the grave and still as stone. He seems slump-shouldered and small for the first time in the entirety of their acquaintance.  
  
They see him around the house less than ever (that they see him at all Clint attributes to Cap) and he rarely speaks unless spoken to. But even when he talks without being prompted, it's usually something like a quiet request for someone to pass the salt. He never makes eye contact with anyone but Cap, he's always pale, and there's something hesitant about him, like he's almost unwilling to breathe in case it draws attention to him. Everything about Tony says he doesn't want anyone to notice him.  
  
The thing of it is, is that Tony's made sure that everyone notices him for years, and his shrinking withdrawal is like someone sucked all the air out of a room. It's impossible to miss.  
  
  
Clint overhears Bruce quietly ask Tony, "Are you all right?" one day over post-battle pizza.  
  
Tony, who has been silent and staring at the table instead of talking all meal long, flushes but doesn't look up. "Yeah. Just tired."  
  
Clint doesn't believe him, and neither does Bruce, from the look on his face. Bruce scoots forward and lowers his voice even further, and Clint can't catch what he says to Tony, but Tony says, "There's nothing wrong, Bruce. I'm just tired, like I said." With that, Tony drops the pizza he's been picking at for the last half an hour and gets up. "I'm going to bed," he says and all but runs out of the room.  
  
Bruce sighs and when Cap comes back a little while later, he says, "I didn't mean to chase Tony off."  
  
Cap rubs his face tiredly and takes Tony's seat, quietly quizzing Bruce on the conversation (Clint thinks anyway. He can't hear them over Natasha and Phil bickering over Russian literature) before sighing himself.  
  
"And then he said he was going to bed," Bruce says.  
  
"Which means he's retreated into the depths of the house." Steve rubs his face again and gets up.  
  
“Steve,” Bruce calls, eyes wide with concern. “What’s going on?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Steve says, sounding tired as he looks down the hall Tony has disappeared into. “Or what to do about it.”  
Steve goes after Tony.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **  
>  __  
>  TRIGGER WARNING: THIS IS WHERE TONY ATTEMPTS SUICIDE. **
> 
> ****
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> That aside, Linnea Kou, is an awesome beta!

Tony's always been tactile, even before they were together, so initially Steve had taken the clutching hugs as a sign that maybe Tony was coming back to himself. He let Tony tuck his face against Steve's shoulder, let plaster himself against Steve's chest, arms looping around his neck, and he let Tony hold him for as long as he wanted. When Steve figured out the hugs said _I_ need _to know someone cares about me, please, I need human contact_ , it stopped being a pleasant indulgence and became something else, a wordless reassurance that Steve loved him.  
That seemed to make things worse; soon after Steve realized what they said and responded accordingly, Tony's touches became much less frequent. When Tony seemed to break down and _need_ the touch, his embraces were even more desperate and intense and they began to say _I'm drowning and I'm too far from shore to save myself_.

Steve realized he didn't know how to save Tony from himself.

*

  
It's a first and only, but Tony's actually grateful for his past as a weapons developer right now. It means he knows his way around explosives and if there's one thing his creations are, it's efficient; there won't be anything left. Which is preferable, he decides as he fiddles with JARVIS's code. They'll all be glad there was nothing to bury after they find out what he is.

*

  
  
Tony finds that he's missed Malibu more than he realized. He's missed the sunshine and the cool of the Pacific and the briny smell of the sea wafting in through open windows and it all hits him when he walks out on his patio for the first time in years. If he planned to live beyond the end of the week, he'd start thinking about moving back here someday when he's too old to be an Avenger. Yeah, he can see that, he thinks with a wistful smile. Spending his days in the lab and his evenings curled up with Steve, if Tony were to ask him to stay for Tony's twilight years (although Tony doesn't think he'd try; aside from being a monster who will be dead by Wednesday, he doesn't think it's fair to ask Steve to spend years watching him grow old and die while Steve stays young).  
  
Steve interrupts his train of thought by approaching him from behind and wrapping his arms around Tony, sighing contentedly as he easily tucks his chin over Tony's shoulder. "It's beautiful," Steve says quietly.  
  
"Yeah." Tony watches the swoop and drive of birds over the sea and rests his head against the side of Steve's. "One of the reasons I bought this place was the view," he says. It's a grand, sweeping vista over the green of the ocean and the yellow and muted greens of the land around it, and the house hangs over the edge of the cliff. Tony's fallen asleep many a time to the sound of the waves washing at the rock below and it's one of the reasons he loves this place. He hopes, he knows in vain, that Steve will appreciate the Malibu house even after Tony's gone. He'll have to rebuild part of it, but god knows that he'll be able to afford it with the portion of Tony's fortune he'll inherit.  
Tony loves him, but he wishes Steve hadn't come along, he thinks again as he turns around in Steve's hold and sighs against his collarbone. Steve's a variable he's had to recalculate for and he knows that, at best, he can only control for Steve's actions about sixty percent. It's not enough for Tony to be comfortable by a long chalk, but he'd been unable to tell Steve no when Steve had asked to join him.  
If Tony were a stronger man and had done the right thing by pushing Steve away, this wouldn't be a problem. Steve wouldn't have thought to ask to come along. But Tony is weak and here they both are. God, Steve is going to hate him so much for all of this. He tucks his head beneath Steve's chin for a moment. So terribly weak, he thinks again and pulls on his everything's-okay mask.  
  
Steve holds him close for a while and then pulls back. "I know you've been saying the East Coast doesn't know Mexican food from a hole in the ground--"  
  
"--And that Clint's Tex Mex is an abomination?" Tony asks brightly.  
  
Laughing, Steve nods. "Why don't you show me some real Mexican food, then?  
  
"Sure," Tony says. It's the least he can do for Steve, who tolerates so very much from him for so tainted little in return. "There's a place about an hour away I think you'll like."  
  
"Oh, I don't want to put you out just for dinner!" Steve says, fanning his hands over Tony's hips. "That's so far!"  
  
"In California," Tony says with amusement, "we don't measure by distance but by time; that's really not that far away when you factor in LA traffic. But even if it were," he says and drapes an arm around Steve's shoulder, "I'd do it for you." Steve flushes adorably and Tony aches when he thinks again about how much he loves Steve and how much Steve is going to hate him soon.  
  
Steve smiles, a little bashful, and nods. "I'll take your word for it."  
  
"Good," Tony says, finding, to his surprise, that he can smile genuinely. "Wanna go now?"  
  
"Sure," Steve says and lets Tony lead the way down to the garage.

*

El Gallo is as excellent as Tony remembers and Steve loves it. Inexplicably, he really likes menudo.  
  
"It's _organ meat._ " Tony says, wrinkling his nose.  
  
Steve raises an eyebrow, his fork pausing between plate and mouth. "There is nothing wrong with organ meat."  
  
Tony makes a face and goes back to his chile relleno. "I'm chalking that up to the Great Depression's limited menu."  
  
"You do that," Steve says and eats his forkful with gusto. "It's still delicious."  
  
Tony shakes his head. " _Anyway_ , you should go to an exhibit with Pepper Tuesday evening - I already asked and she's got tickets for a gallery opening she thinks you'd like."  
  
Steve frowns a little. "I -- don't get me wrong, I love Pepper and I think she's amazing -- but I came to be with you."  
  
Maybe Steve and Pepper will get together after he's gone. They'd be a good couple, Tony thinks. "I know," he agrees. "But I came out here for work. I'm gonna be working with the R&D guys until fairly late, like I said before we left, and there's a lot to do here -- stuff you can't get in New York -- that you shouldn't miss out on because your boyfriend is buried in his lab all day."  
  
"Maybe you could come with me?" Steve asked, his eyes big and hopeful.  
  
Tony shakes his head. "But maybe we can come out here on vacation sometime soon." His breath catches on the lie. There will be no soon.  
  
Steve must catch a whiff of something in his words. "Yeah, that would be nice. Maybe in a month or two?" he asks, eyes uncertain.  
  
"Sure." Tony nods. "We can do that. I'll even brave Disneyland, if you want it. Now," he says with a grin. "Dessert here or on the way home? They do _magical_ things with a churro here."  
  
"What's a churro?" Steve asks, allowing the subject change.  
  
  


*

  
Tuesday evening comes and Steve is safely ensconced with Pepper for at least until midnight. Tony has been jittery and on edge since he got up, trying to hide his growing agitation as the day goes on. Today is the day he's going to end it, he thinks sometime around three in the afternoon. There's a definitive end in sight.  
That's a sobering, steadying thought. He can feel the calm it brings flowing through him and he runs through his mental checklist again. Codes for the suit and for JARVIS are tucked away in his 'in case of death' folder in his server (which will be unlocked by JARVIS when Steve tells him), his will is totally updated, and all the other loose ends are taken care of for both the company and the Avengers. The explosive - the way he's chosen to go out - is all set and JARVIS is set to 'forget' everything that's happened for the last few hours and to erase all set-up tracks from his databases (complete with dummy footage that shows it to be an accident) as soon as the bomb goes off, leaving him -- and therefore everyone else -- totally unaware that this was premeditated. Steve is none the wiser and they parted ways this morning on a good note, and he's talked to the other people who matter most to him already (Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, and Bruce) in the last few days.  
Nodding to himself, Tony goes back to work.

*

  
  
"Steve," Pepper asks, eyes on the road as she drives them to the gallery, "has Tony been acting worryingly odd, lately? Because when he and I talked Sunday night, it felt like he was saying good bye, and the last time he sounded like that, he was dying of palladium poisoning."  
  
"Yeah." Steve nods, shifting uncomfortably. His stomach has been knotted all day and he has a bad feeling about this. "He has. Everything was okay when we got up, but when I left it felt like that, too."  
  
Pepper glances at him quickly. "We should skip the opening, maybe?"  
  
Steve sighs. "I think so," he says.  
  
Sliding into the next turn lane, Pepper flips a u-turn and makes for the Malibu house.  
  


*

  
Well, Tony thinks as he takes a sip of his sixth whiskey and eying the clock. It's nine thirty, which is a good a time as any. Tony picks up the remote and presses the button, watching the count down blink. Here goes everythi--  
  
  


*

  
  
They wind their way up the long driveway to the house, going as fast as Pepper dares on the switch back road she hasn't regularly driven in a couple years. They crest the last rise to the house just in time to see the house be rocked by an explosion.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks, as ever, to my beta!

Tony drifts into awareness, blinking his eyes open to find himself in a hospital bed. Fuck, he thinks a little woozily. He failed. Weak weak weak, too weak and pathetic to manage to kill himself, even with extensive preparation. Sighing, he tries to catalog his injuries: a broken leg and one hand is in a cast. Tony lifts up the neck of his hospital gown to peer down it. The arc reactor is fine, but it looks like he had some sort of surgery and oh, exciting those must be minor burns. Considering how strong that explosive was, Tony knows he got off _light_. He wonders how obvious it is that he tried to kill himself and supposes he’ll have to see. They’ll want to _talk_ to him about it, if it is.  
Not long after he wakes up, Steve appears and sits in the chair near the head of the bed and watches Tony for a long, silent moment. "The doctors are saying you might have tried to commit suicide. Is that true?"  
  
Tony looks back and doesn't answer. His attempt must have been obvious, which means he's going to have to have this talk with the doctors. But he really doesn't want to have this chat with Steve first.  
  
"Tony? Is it?"  
  
"How am I supposed to answer that?" Tony snaps. "If I say 'yes', I'm on suicide watch and removed from the Avengers and---"  
  
"And if you say 'no'? What then?" Steve asks carefully.  
  
"Then I say no," Tony says and flops back, glaring at the IV stand next to his bed like it's the source of all of his problems. He'd yank it out if he didn't know Steve's presence makes it futile.  
  
"Tony?"  
  
Tony meets Steve's eyes and thinks. He says, "I don't want to be on suicide watch or kicked off the team, Steve. Or be treated like glass."  
  
Steve takes it for the yes that it is and reaches forward to intertwine their fingers on his uninjured hand. "I won't treat you like glass or kick you off the team, although you're gonna have to talk to the doctors about this. But why, Tony?"  
  
"I'm not going to say. It'll hurt you," Tony says and sighs when Steve frowns.  
  
"Why would it hurt me?" Steve is giving him a sad, searching look.  
  
Tony chuckles. "Explaining why it would hurt you would _also_ hurt you."  
  
"So you're not going to tell me?" Steve asks.  
  
"No," Tony says and has to bite his tongue so he doesn't explain he was doing it to save Steve pain in the long run. That's clearly not going to happen and his weakness is just waiting to be found; he’ll try to protect it as long as he can, though. "There's a reason, Steve. I know it doesn't make sense to you but from where I'm sitting, it's the best answer."  
  
"....All right, if you don't want to talk to me," Steve says quietly as he gets up, "I can accept that, I guess."  
  
"No, stay," Tony says when Steve tries to take back his hand. "Please? I'm sorry I can't tell you but please stay. I don't want you to go." When Steve stops trying to wrest his hand away, Tony idly rubs his thumb along the arch of Steve's index finger. "It's not that I don't trust you or love you, or whatever you're thinking, because I do, it's..." he trails off and closes his eyes for a moment. "It's complicated and hard to explain and someday I can maybe explain it to you, but I'd like to talk to someone else first so I don't word vomit on you and make it worse." He opens his eyes and looks up at Steve. "Does that make sense?"  
  
Steve nods and sits back down. "Yeah," he says. "Whenever you're ready, Tony, but we're having this conversation."  
  
Tony smiles and squeezes Steve’s hand. He can probably put it off long enough for it to be too awkward to bring up and he’ll have to outwait the suicide watch, but maybe he can try again before then, too. Maybe he’ll fucking _succeed_ this time, instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **FYI:** There's still _Stability_ to go, which is mostly written. That's where recovery!fluff will be, to finally soothe ~17,00 words of angst and drama, lol.


End file.
